I am not a stream Nor a babbling brook I am a pond with a passing ripple A sinking stone, thrown, once shook With a shake often and aware of it I am never content With the soft waters unbroken As a stream I am not known
Pieces of you scatter and sway With every footstep underneath
Like a string of steps beneath the sea My hope is silt And my thoughts are of you
Though the tides may turn On a direful coin As they press for only the most history true
It’s forever in memory and in mind And in the quiet corners of my conscious mind Where you will be
Drifting like the sparkling sands Are the memories of you renewed
It's hard to let go of a pleasant memory. For me, something stunning and ironic keeps on resurfacing in my personal life. A song, a saying, etc. Suddenly it will just click for me mentally, stirring up the past like a cloud of silt at the bottom of the ocean.
And most difficult of all is that I WANT to be there. Such a beautiful sight is hard not to revisit. But I cannot survive beneath the sea. I'm not a fish.